Shears
by Angel of Harmony
Summary: I'm cutting my hair, Jack. Sarah angst. Implied Javid slashiness.


**Title:  **Shears

**Rating:  **PG

**POV:**  Sarah

**Warnings:**  None, really.  Rated PG for slashy content and psycho!Sarah.

**Feedback:  **Any and all constructive criticism would be lovely, whether e-mailed (ButterflyChica2@aol.com) or left in a review.

**Disclaimer:  **Sarah belongs to Disney.  (I'm not complaining.)  Jack and David also belong to Disney.   (*pout*)  Either way, I own nothing.

**Notes:**  This is just a little ficlet that I wrote to overcome the writer's block I've experienced on Cold Walls, Cold Words, and a Frayed Piece of Twine (which will be finished soon, I promise!).  Anyway, this is a bit creepy, but I'm actually pretty satisfied with it.  (Much thanks to Shimmerwings for her beta-ing and encouragement!)  So, enjoy!  

~*~

Shears 

By Angel of Harmony/Harmony/Jen

I'm cutting my hair, Jack.

I've taken the shears from the mantel, the shears Mama and I use to cut our lace, and I'm holding them up to my hair, staring at myself in our battered mirror.

_"Sarah, I do care about you.  I just… can't care about you the way you want me to.  I tried, you know I tried.  But I just can't."_

The scissors are long, so silvery that I can see my distorted reflection in their blades.  They're sharp, too; I've punctured my skin enough times during work to know that.  But I won't hurt myself, Jack, don't you worry. 

_"I don't understand, Jack.  How?  How can you **do** this to me?"_

They're so pretty, my light brown locks, so long, curled just slightly near the bottom, golden in the fading sunlight.  But I need to do this.  You'll understand, Jack.  You'll love it.  I know you will.

_"Sarah, I don't wanna hurt you.  Believe me, that's the last thing I wanna do.  You're wonderful, you're sweet, you're caring, you're everything a guy could want.  But I don't love you.  I love him."_

I've opened up the shears, Jack, and I'm holding them steadily, the blades surrounding a thick chunk of hair near my face.  I'm closing them now, slowly, slowly…

_"He's my brother, Jack!  How can you leave me for my own brother?  It's sick, it's wrong, it's… why?  Why, Jack?  Why?  Why?  Why!?"_

The blades have snapped shut, Jack, and the first chunk is falling.  It falls more quickly than I imagined, the long strands spilling out to cover the spot of wooden floor at my feet.  In the mirror, I can see the newly frayed ends, just reaching the middle of my right cheek, and I smile, twisting them between my fingers.

_"Sarah, please, calm down.  You're goin' crazy…  I… I don't know why.  I can't explain it, any more than I can explain why I don't love you.  I just… feel it.  I love him.  And he loves me too, Sarah.  We don't wanna hurt you, but what're we supposed to do?  I can't lie to you."_

I know that chunk will have to be shorter, Jack, before my job is complete.  But, for now, I'm moving on to other sections, cutting quickly, randomly, haphazardly.  The hair is piling up, now, a golden haystack of shorn, twisted strands.  And I'm laughing, Jack.  I'm laughing.

_"It wouldn't be lying, Jack.  You love me.  You do!  You just don't realize it.  You're just confused, is all.  Confused.  And I'll prove it, I will.  I'll make you love me again."_

My work is almost done now, Jack.  I'm running my hands through it, still laughing, playing with the short strands.  They're lying in a twisted mop, completely atop my head.  No golden locks fall below my ears, now, and the bottommost strands are mere wisps at the nape of my neck.  I'm cutting a little more, here and there, but I know I'm nearly finished.

_"Sarah, please, don't cry.  Don't get hysterical.  I know you love me, and I'm sorry.  You know I'm sorry.  But I don't love you- I can't love you.  Unless you can somehow turn yourself into Davey."_

Not many people know this, Jack, but when I was a little girl, a baby, really, with hardly any hair, what little I had was curled up into tight, dark coils- just like my brother's.  

It's like that, now.  The curls are tight, and my hair appears darker, almost, in its density.  Just like David's.

In fact, the resemblance is uncanny.  If you squinted just slightly, convinced yourself that my eyes are blue, not hazel, you'd really think I was David.

Now, Jack, aren't you attracted to me? 

Don't you want me now?

Please, Jack.

Can't you love me now? 

~*~


End file.
